


A Wedding to a Warlord

by MessengerGabriel



Series: The Pack of Kaer Morhen [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: (kinda), Alpha Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Alpha Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cultural Differences, Language Barrier, M/M, Misunderstandings, Omega Jaskier | Dandelion, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Romance, Slow Burn, warlord geralt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:13:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24668944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MessengerGabriel/pseuds/MessengerGabriel
Summary: Any other Omega about to be married would have a white lace gown strewn with silver beading and thread.  The top would be open to expose unmarked shoulders, collarbones, and neck.  A sign that the Omega was unmated and untouched, a precious gift wrapped in understated colors and delicate details.Jaskier’s dress was not any of those things.Inspired by "The Accidental Warlord and His Pack" by inexplicifics.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: The Pack of Kaer Morhen [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1855480
Comments: 227
Kudos: 1495
Collections: Inspired by inexplicific Accidental Warlord AU





	1. A Wedding

Jaskier trembled as the handmaidens coiffed his hair into some semblance of order. Finally the day he had been dreading had arrived. Three weeks ago his father had “selflessly” decided to give his eldest and only son’s hand in marriage to the White Wolf of the North. A warlord who now ruled most of the northern continent with a mage by his side. The Alpha was feared by all the southern kingdoms, who had long since realized the only way to stop the wolf pack of Witchers was to ally with it, then ignore it. As a male Omega Jaskier’s hand was signed away without any thought. After all, an Omega son was of no value, unlike Jaskier’s three younger half sisters. Of course his stepmother was ecstatic to be rid of him and his father’s satisfaction drove the knife deeper into Jaskier’s heart. But being married off to an unknown, rumored savage Alpha wasn’t what broke him. It was actually the wedding dress.

Any other Omega about to be married would have a white lace gown strewn with silver beading and thread. The top would be open to expose unmarked shoulders, collarbones, and neck. A sign that the Omega was unmated and untouched, a precious gift wrapped in understated colors and delicate details. 

Jaskier’s dress was not any of those things. 

It’s neckline went up to his jaw; an opaque lace covering him as if he was used goods. A whore’s uniform of bright sparkling beading in yellow and red, atop the pristine white lace. Prostitute Omegas hid their necks from sight, covering the bruises and scars from clients. To put Jaskier in such a costume was a spit in the face to his new Alpha husband. He wouldn’t hope to be bonded after such an insult. There were no maiden gloves. Made to cover his hands and symbolize his transition to a new house. Only those truly poor or those carelessly given away didn’t have the delicate white silk to cover them. Jaskier held back his tears. With the amount of caked on makeup it would surely run. He wouldn’t give his former family the satisfaction. After all, only whores let themselves be painted like this -- not like Jaskier had any choice. 

“A moment if you please,” Jaskier spoke steadily to the handmaidens, not allowing for any argument.  
They traded dubious glances but left anyway. 

Jaskier’s hands trembled as he lifted the top of his now empty jewelry box. His sisters had emptied it in front of him, as he was laced into that horrid dress. Argued over which piece they wanted, even breaking and discarding the more delicate necklaces. But they hadn’t found his treasures. His most beloved items and now the only things left to his name. Lifting the false bottom he held one small pearl necklace and one locket on a long chain. His mother’s Omega gifts. One from her courting phase, the pearl necklace was from the Alpha she truly loved, not Jaskier’s father. The locket was a gift to his mother on Jaskier’s fifth birthday, a thumb sized portrait of the two of them together. 

Quickly he placed them around his neck and tucked them under the collar of his dress. And with shaking hands he lifted out the last item, a pair of creamy maiden’s gloves. The ones his mother’s family first born Omega girls had all worn on their wedding day. With a last choked off sob he put them on and grabbed the garish bouquet of lavender, buttercups, yellow carnations, and pink cyclamen. The overly large insult hid his hands.

The time before the wedding passed quickly, colored by Jaskier’s own despair. He waited alone in front of the hall, no one would guide him to his new husband, no one would give him away. As he walked to his betrothed he noticed the disdainful purple gaze of a woman at his Alpha’s shoulder. He dropped his gaze quickly to stare at the bouquet in his hands. But not before noticing his Alpha hadn’t even turned his gaze from the Vicar to even *look* at his new bride. His scent gave nothing away to Jaskier, Witcher’s were notoriously subtle scented. All he could think he could smell was notes of disappointment. Of course. There was already a lover, the warlord had no choice, and Jaskier could expect no possible contentment in his new life moving forward. He had allowed himself to hope for some semblance of contentment in this marriage, but now those hopes were dashed. 

The service passed with Jaskier’s eyes submissively aimed at the ground as the Vicar rushed through the bare bones ceremony. No vows were asked for on either side, no words from his husband. The first and only time during the whole ceremony Jaskier saw his husband’s face was when they exchanged rings. The White Wolf’s appearance struck Jaskier with yet more despair. He was so handsome, with golden eyes that could stare anyone into submission. His white hair had been intricately braided with golden wiring and clasps, a crown for a true Alpha. No wonder he was disappointed to be married to a plain weed like Jaskier. 

The reception wasn’t much better than the wedding. Jaskier was seated to the left of the centerline, where in front of him was his old houses’ contingent. Traditionally his parents and siblings would fill out the rest of the left side. But it was left empty. He could see his former family supping with the King of Reddinnah at another table far from the head table. His husband sat to his right, his own contingent of advisors next to him. The purple eyed woman sat next, then a Witcher with a great scar across his face, an older Witcher who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there, and then a young blond girl. A cub.

Jaskier’s heart plummeted, a lover and now a daughter. He would be lucky if he was just locked in his own set of rooms for the rest of his life...again. 

As the sham of a celebration continued Jaskier ate little. Everything served to him had been very heavily salted, spiced, or burnt. After the first bite as was polite he let each plate sit there untouched. He didn’t dare request any kind of wine or ale, fearing it would be dumped on him causing further humiliation. His husbands’ side of the party seemed to be in high spirits. They ate the food with gusto, drank cask after cask of ale, and spoke freely in their foregin guttural language. After an hour or two Jaskier saw his father leave without a backwards glance. Not one last look at the Omega son he sold, no affection left from before Jaskier’s presentation. His son Julian was as good as dead now.

The lace around Jaskier’s throat seemed to grow tighter and tighter as the night went on. As his wedding night approached. 

After one last song his husband stood in unison with his woman advisor, they spoke briefly to the scarred Witcher and then left with the now dozing child. Jaskier stayed put, fists gripping his wedding dress. The scarred Witcher motioned for him to follow, he was then led to a bedroom, plain in appearance and functional. Jaskier’s heart couldn’t sink any further, his guide seemingly oblivious to Jaskiers feelings spoke a few words, motioned at a wardrobe and left, shutting the door firmly behind him. This was not a wedding night suite. 

Jaskier stands a moment before moving to the wardrobe to open it, and then almost immediately after slams it shut in disgust. Lingerie fit only for fit for the most low of whores filled it, a final insult. Holding his tears inside he moved to the second room, thankfully it was a bathing room, towels and icy water left for him to use. He scrubs almost violently at his face, irritating his face into redness. But at least the makeup was finally gone. He searches the cabinets and finds an ornate lady’s dagger, honestly the insults don’t stop. As if he would shame his husband that way. 

Jaskier takes it and cuts his way out of the prison he’d been made to endure. In a fit of spite he shreds the dress into ribbons, he takes the crystal beading and hides the small grouping in his maiden gloves with his necklaces. He then wraps the gloves into the cut off sleeves of his dress. He then squirrels away the satchel in the space between a drawer and back of the nightstand. At least he could bribe some food out of his husband’s servants if needed. 

Waiting for his husband was excruciating every minute the Alpha didn’t appear. Would his Alpha spend his wedding night in the arms of his lover? Would he not even give Jaskier the barest minimum of care this night? As the next half hour crawled by Jaskier found himself falling asleep on top of the bed’s covers.


	2. Caravan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor descriptions of dependent abuse/neglect/withholding of food towards the end of the chapter.   
> Please skip to the end for a summary of the section if this makes you uncomfortable.

The next morning found Jaskier waking to the dawn as he was used to at home confined in his small set of rooms. There was no sign of his husband other than the rumpled bed sheets that Jaskier now slept under and a whisper of the Alpha’s cedar and silver scent. Had his husband tucked him in during the night? Why hadn’t his Alpha woken him? Was he that terrible to look upon?

A feeling of ice suffused him, a sour scent of disappointment dispersing into the morning light. As he roused himself he saw a set of functional traveling Omega clothes placed on a chair next to the wardrobe, a set of leather knee high riding boots, a warm navy colored cloak trimmed with white fox fur, black breeches and matching tunic embroidered with silver knots. Lovely black furred gloves rested on top. A satchel was hanging from the back of the chair. Jaskier stared at the ensemble for almost a full minute before a very small smile broke out onto his face. Proper noble Omega clothes, perhaps there was some regard in this marriage. 

Jaskier washed off all the stress of the night before, making sure to moisturize to reduce his face’s puffiness, he couldn’t let his visage become worse, it would only invite ridicule. Digging around the offensive clothes in the wardrobe found Jaskier with acceptable, if plain, smallclothes. He then dressed in his new clothes and then packed his satchel, withdrawing his treasures from the nightstand, the dagger, the rest of the acceptable smallclothes, and a towel or two. This was all he now had to his name, unless his father gave him a dowry, which he doubted. He had hoped to take his books and lute at least. 

But his wedding night hadn’t been forced, and his Alpha had taken some care of him, even if it was just minimal. Jaskier was nothing if optimistic. At the very least his husband would not cast him aside. By the time he was done and waiting a knock sounded at his door, he almost leapt up to open it, cloak, satchel, and gloves clutched in hand. The woman from last night met him, Jaskier felt himself go icy and immediately lowered his gaze. 

Fearful of her reaction Jaskier stays frozen, gaze on his feet. 

“Come,” Her command was very accented and rough, Jaskier trembled and nodded, gaze still on his feet. He didn’t want to anger his husband’s lover more. He sees her stunningly embroidered hem sweep away as she begins to leave. Jaskier scrambles to follow her, keeping several steps behind and his gaze on the path in front of him. 

She says nothing to him as they walk briskly through the castle of Redania, so they make it to stables in quick time. Around them Witchers under his husband’s banner are getting ready to leave. Horses tacked and wagons loaded. The Alpha female stops in front of a Witcher wearing a wolf medallion, who was brushing down and tacking a white gelding. Jaskier doesn’t make eye contact with him, glancing up briefly and quickly to take in the golden eyes and black spiked armor. The scars bisecting the right side of his face reminded Jaskier that this man had been the one to lead him to his empty wedding chambers. . 

The two Alphas exchange some words before the female leaves, not sparing a glance at the terrified Omega behind her. Jaskier keeps his gaze respectfully lowered as he waits to be addressed again. The Witcher says something to Jaskier, but he cannot understand.

“I apologize my Lord, I cannot understand you.” His hands clench tight on his satchel. 

What an embarrassment he was, not even knowing the language of his husband's people.

The Alphas' words pause, and Jaskier sees him walk around the horse to Jaskier. Jaskier lifts his gaze, but keeps away from eye contact. Disrespect like that would probably not be tolerated. 

The Witcher, frowning, holds out the reins for Jaskier to take, and motions for the Omega to pull himself into the saddle. Jaskier obeys quickly, happy that he had some experience in riding. Being incompetant there might have brought him to tears of panic. But thankfully just after he settled into the saddle the scarred Alpha hopped onto a black stallion next to him and motioned for Jaskier to follow. 

They made their way to the front of the caravan, joining the familiar Alpha female on her horse, and the pup on her own, two Witchers with a Viper and Griffon Medallon flanking her. The two ladies were speaking with each other, smiling. His husband is at the head of the group, not participating but listening. He doesn’t look at Jaskier. Jaskier stays just behind his guide and the caravan begins moving out of the castle. He didn’t bother searching the watching Redanian faces for his family.

He kept his eyes on the spaces between his steed’s ears. Letting the foregin chatter and shouting washing over him. He hadn’t felt this numb and terrified since his father remarried mere months after his first wife’s death. He finds himself drifting back, riding in the middle of the caravan, flanked by two Witchers wearing Crane medallions. They do not bother to attempt to speak to him, and he is grateful for it. He can handle silence and being ignored, and at the very least he won’t be able to understand the insults to himself that were probably exchanged between the two. 

The ride lasted all day, and by the end Jaskier was too tired to think on how he would get food tonight, or where he’d sleep. As the witchers make camp within and outside the ring of wagons Jaskier skirts to a shadowed stretch of ground away from the now merry group of Witchers in the center. Jaskier quickly removes his horse's burden, letting him follow other similarly tacked horses to pasture. 

A bedroll and blanket are found in the removed saddle bag, along with one full waterskin but no food. Sighing in disappointment Jaskier settles himself down, looking longingly towards the fires now dotting the landscape in front of him. He had been given bread and jerky on the road around midday from the Crane Witcher who had ridden next to him, but hours later found his stomach complaining for more than one megar meal all day. 

He can see his husband and his family from here. His Alpha is smiling almost gently with his men, sharpening his silver and steel swords. The Warlord’s pup is draped over his back as he sits in front of the fire, she’s beautiful. Full of happiness and laughter as she converses with the scarred Alpha from this morning. The Alpha female, the Mage, is drinking from a cup, smiling at her daughter and lover. The picture of a perfect happy family, and here Jaskier was again, on the outside looking in. Craving that connection, something that he knew now he’d never receive from his husband. 

Jaskier returns his gaze to his gloved hands. With so many Alphas around it was unlikely he’d get any substantial food tonight. He reached for his waterskin, weighing it. If he was careful and rationed he’d be able to stretch it several days. But hopefully even these traditional Alphas would allow the impropriety of allowing him to collect water. He allowed himself one or two sips before he carefully closed and put the skin away. 

Huddling under his blanket he let his gaze stare into the fire. He could hear the Witchers passing around food, calling out to those watching the horses. He sees his husband receive two plates, one for his cub, and one for himself. It was a rabbit, and Jaskiers stomach growled it’s displeasure. Almost two days with very little food was a lot, even for him, used to his Alpha father and stepmother denying him food on days they were displeased with him. At least the cook would sneak him leftovers if she could. 

Clutching the blanket Jaskier squeezes his eyes shut, trying to forget the food in front of him. Footsteps that stop in front of him causes Jaskier to then immediately sit straight up and open his eyes. Surprised at being approached at all, let alone this early into the meal, no way was every Alpha fed to their content yet. But there in front of him was his Alpha, golden eyes fixed onto Jaskier’s blue. Held out to Jaskier is a full plate of rabbit, and a heel of bread, steam still wafting in the air above the meat. 

Mechanically Jaskier takes the plate, mouth open in shock. Such an obvious sign of favor here? In front of his lover? Jaskier couldn’t believe it. Happiness flooded Jaskier’s scent, his expression of shock turning into a wide smile. 

“Thank you. Thank you Alpha.” Jaskier’s smile is so wide. His Alpha’s expression does not change from his original stoic visage. But Jaskier sees his eyes soften just a little. 

Jaskier’s husband grunts in response, and returns to his pup and lover. The mage’s purple eyes stare into Jaskier's in a false facsimile of his Alphas. Jaskier’s happiness is doused, and his gaze drops to the meal. 

He eats the rabbit, he wouldn’t dare waste food but it now tastes of ash in his mouth. What was he thinking, of course his husband wasn’t showing favor. He was just allowing his lover to establish dominance at his side, Jaksier would never have a chance to be next to him at the fire. 

And with that sobering and crushing, realization Jaskier sleeps. Far away from what was his home, and cold, far from the Alpha he was married to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier at the end of traveling contemplates his hunger and implies through his thoughts that his father/stepmother withheld food for days. Jaskier does not see this as abuse or neglect.   
> He also assumes he will not receive food unless the rest of the Alphas are finished, and that there might not be any left. Accepts possible fasting/starvation.


	3. Peace Talks

This pattern of travel continues for several weeks, Jaskier rides between two Witchers who do not speak to him, unloads on the outskirts, is given food from his Alpha and sleeps, wishing for warmth. Every morning he was thankfully given access to the water sources collected to refill his waterskin. He makes sure to wash what he can whenever he can find privacy, and keeps his hands covered during the day, if he can be the perfect Omega then maybe when they reach his husband’s keep he’ll be allowed some comforts. 

After the weeks end and the weather begins to continue to cool quickly the party of the White Wolf finds themselves at the base of the Blue Mountains. As he recalls from the rumors the Wolf’s keep is in a hidden valley between mountains, somewhere in the middle of the range. Jaskier is almost to his new home. The Witchers seem to be in higher spirits. 

That night as everyone begins to bed down Jaskier receives a visitor. The mage. She stares at him for several long minutes. He keeps his gaze submissively on her feet, not daring to provoke any feeling of challenge. As his husband’s favored lover, no matter his married status, she ranked higher than him and could make his life hell. He’d prefer to avoid that.

Abruptly she speaks to him, “Why do you insist in refusing to meet my gaze? Truly you must be a desperately petty thing if you cannot stand another female speaking to your husband.”

Jaskier can feel all the blood in his face draining at once. “No! No, my lady. I understand he is yours, I’d never dream to challenge your place by his side.” He wrings his hands in a panic as he attempts to convince her of his sincerity. 

She stares at him again, this time seeming confused. “What nonsense are you speaking?” It’s not a question. 

Jaskier continues to wring his hands, “You’re, you’re his, you stand next to him with a standing invitation, you gave him a daughter, and speak freely to him and his generals. You are well established as his favored. I know he is not mine, I promise I won’t challenge that.”

The mages' purple eyes narrow. “Stay here.” 

Jaskier nods, returning his eyes to the ground now that she is not speaking to him. He hears her retreat back to the circle of his husband’s temporary court. He can hear the murmur of their voices become agitated as the conversation continues. After a few moments the mage returns to Jaskier, along with the heavily scarred Alpha.   
“You will answer all of my questions honestly, you will look me in the eyes as you answer. Do you understand?”

Jaskier immediately raises his gaze to hers, “Yes my Lady, I understand.”

“When did you hear of your betrothal?”  
“Three weeks before the wedding my Lady.”  
“Do you know the language we speak?”  
“No my Lady, my apologies.”  
“What is your dowry?”  
“I...I am not sure my Lady, I was never told of it.”

As questioning continues about Jaskier’s knowledge of his marriage both the mage’s and the Witcher’s faces become more and more stony. Jaskier begins to clutch at his cloak in response, his scent turning anxious and stressed. 

“Finally, Omega, what is your husband's name?”

Jaskier again goes very very pale, a trend he would find slightly amusing in any other circumstance, “I, I am sorry my Lady, I was never told. Just his title. I, truly, I know nobody’s name here.”

At this the Witcher lets out a loud and very obvious curse, seemingly displeased by what he hears. 

“You mean to tell me that you had no part in your wedding, and that you married a man whose name you do not even know.” 

“I--Yes my Lady, I am a male Omega. If my father determines I do not need to be involved then I am not. To my knowledge my stepmother arranged everything.” Jaskier can feel himself grow hot in embarrassment, what an unworthy Omega he was. That his father felt that he did not even deserve to plan his own wedding, that they thought it funny to marry him off in the clothes of whores with insults displayed everywhere. 

“I sincerely apologize for the insult, I certainly wasn’t prepared for it.” Jaskier tried to project some humor into the conversation, but with his teary voice it didn’t land. 

The mage's eyes had turned into ice, “Eskel!”, she barked. The still visibly angry Witcher turns abruptly to face her, she speaks rapidly to him in their language and then begins to march back in the direction of Jaskier’s husband. 

This Eskel takes several deep calming breaths, his scent similarly becoming suffused with mint instead of the intense chile it was before. He turns to Jaskier and kneels gently down in front of him, his amber eyes meeting Jaskier’s blue. Jaskier sees a moment of hesitation before a hand starts to move toward him...and he freezes. 

Jaskier can feel the panic entering his body as Eskel's very large hand presses onto his shoulder. An unknown Alpha is touching him. What does he do???? Is he being punished? Did he answer a question wrong? Did he upset the Alpha? Jaskier can feel himself begin to minutely shake, and braces himself for the coming correction. 

But nothing does. Vaguely he can hear Eskel now shouting, but this wouldn’t really help with any kind of verbal correction as Jaskier can’t speak the language. What kind of proper Alpha attempts a correction that wouldn’t be effective. 

Jaskier finds his eyes frantically roving the ground at Eskel’s knees, hyperfocusing on the ragged edge of his red and green striped tunic. It would need to be rehemmed soon. Eskel’s hand leaving Jaskier’s shoulder jolts him back to the present. Eskel’s voice has changed with the removal of his hand, gentle this time. 

The mage is back, mud on her knees from where she seemed to have thrown herself in an attempt to be closer to his level faster. “Julian, Julian focus on me. You’re not in danger. No one is angry with you. Breathe with me.” 

Jaskier matches her breath, feeling his heartbeat starting to calm the longer he controlled his breathing, after a while he dared to meet her almost concerned gaze. “I apologize, I did not mean to cause any upset.” 

“You have caused no harm, we should be upset with ourselves.” The mage goes to place a hand on his knee, but hesitates and instead places it on the ground. 

“I fear I have made quite a misstep, I am Yennfer, the mage advisor to the White Wolf; your husband. And I am in fact, not his lover nor the mother to his child.” 

Jaskier would like life shattering revelations to stop happening to him so often please. 

“I have contacted my fellow mage Triss Merigold about some of our misunderstandings. It seems we have treated you very unfairly and for that I am sorry. But I will not apologize for protecting my Lord and his Kingdom.”

“You should never apologize for that my Lady, none would blame you for being suspicious of my intent. My wedding certainly did not help your view of me, though I hope you believe me when I say my honor is the opposite of what was implied.” Jaskier could feel some hope returning to him as he and the now named Yennefer conversed. Perhaps he could convince his husband of his virtue and good character. 

Yennefer smiles almost gently to him, certainly less stony than she had this entire time. “I suppose we must start from the beginning, might I have the honor of your name Omega?” She holds out her hand to him, wrist elevated and palm flat. An outdated but traditional greeting to unknown Omegas. Jaskier smiles in response, and ghosts his fingertips over her wrist, accepting the greeting. 

“You may Alpha, I am known as Jaskier to my friends. I hope you use it as we maintain our peace.”

Eskel after Yennefer withdraws her hand extends his, speaking in their language, as well as dipping his head and tipping it to the side (an even more outdated greeting, no Alpha nowadays would be caught dead baring their neck to an Omega). Jaskier returns the same gesture, brushing his fingertips across Eskel’s wrist and trills in response to the gesture. 

Yennefer’s voice was confused, “We...we were told your name was Julian.”  
“Yes I suppose it is legally speaking, though I was usually told that I was a disgrace to it. I adopted the name Jaskier during my years at Oxenfurt, my friends used it and I liked it better than Julian.”  
“You graduated from Oxenfurt?”  
“Yes, summa cum laude, it was a fight to get in with my father, but I think he was grateful to send me away for a time.”   
“Impressive, we seem to have not been told of any of your virtues.”

Jaskier winced, “Yes. My stepmother was probably not kind to my description. She never really liked me.”   
“So what are you really like Omega?” 

Jaskier blushes as he hesitantly begins to describe himself, Yennefer and Eskel very obviously paying attention. But out of the corner of his eye he can see other Witchers paying attention to their interactions. He wonders if his husband is paying attention. 

“I have been told grudgingly that most of my virtues lie with my intelligence. As I have mentioned, I was taught in the different arts. The goal was to be able to support whatever Beta or Alpha household I married into. I am most well versed in music, being competent in the Lute and Lyre, as well as having a singing voice to match,” Jaskier allows a touch of pride to enter his voice as his head raises a slight amount, “I was told by many a professor that if I was allowed I’d be a wonderful bard.” 

Jaskier can see the slight interest in Eskel’s eyes, the Alpha sitting himself more comfortably in front of Jaskier and slouching backwards on his hands as he listens to the Omega. Yennefer smiles at the Omega, indulgent of this new happy mood. Jaskier allows himself to ramble about his time in Oxenfurt, about how he had humiliated the Alpha Valdo Marx in front of an entire amphitheater of Professors and Nobles come to view the top students. 

Eskel seemed to enjoy the story at least. The Alpha looked at Jaskier expectantly as he ended the story, prompting Jaksier to launch into another about his Rhetoric class. 

As Jaskier continues to regale Eskel with stories, both his own, and others he’s read, heard or seen. Yennefer, Jaskier notices out of the corner of his eye, has stood and is speaking quietly to two Witchers with Crane medallions. The two nod and then walk off. They return half a story later, chairs and table in hand. Yennefer directs the two to set up next to where Eskel and Jaskier are kneeling. 

Eskel, without interrupting, manages to get Jaskier up and into a seat. His hands are both offered, palms perfectly flat, an offer of help to an Omega years out of style. Jaskier takes him up on it, an Alpha who had been listening to him ramble for such a while wouldn’t hurt him. As Jaskier is settled into the chair nearest to him one of the Crane Witchers sets an honest to god tea set and snacks onto the table. 

Jaskier abruptly cuts off his conversation, again suffering from speechlessness and his worried anxiety.

“I. What -- what is this?” Jaskier’s eyes flicker rapidly between the actual tea set, Yennefer, the Crane, and Eskel. 

Yennefer fills a cup for them both, then sitting in the empty chair. “This is a peace offering. A time to talk. About your dowry, your husband, everything your father,” She sneers the word, “should have told you half a year ago when our peace talks began.”

She pushes the tea into Jaskier’s gloved and fidgeting hands. They both sip. 

Yennefer continues, “So you and I, and Triss to help with any misunderstandings, will do this properly. I have done you such a disservice by believing a woman I knew was bitter and too happy to marry off a treasure like you. I have let you be afraid and alone, I let those you will soon have to help take care of avoid you, let them think ill of you.”

Her eyes sharpen and her voice hardens, the weapons of mages, raised so everyone can hear. “That stops now. You are innocent in this. A sacrifice unwillingly here--but from what I see in you, and hear. You will be just what we need perhaps.” She seems to repeat herself in the Witcher’s tongue. 

All the Witchers in the vicinity turn to Yennefer and nod, their eyes suddenly less hostile as they look at Jaskier. Jaskier searches the different faces he sees for his Husband, would he back up Yennefer’s announcement? Jaskier felt bereaved when he couldn’t find his Alpha within the crowd. The pair are silent for a small while, sipping tea and nibbling on the tea cakes and pastries provided.

“I...thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” Jaskier mumbled the sentence into his tea cup.   
Yennefer shakes her head, placing the saucer and cup back onto the table with a small sound of porcelain. She clears her throat. “No I did. You have done nothing wrong.”

Jaskier offers her a shaky but hopeful smile. Eskel, who has magicked another chair into existence, steals a pastry. 

The three sit quietly together, enjoying the spring air, the peace seems to suffuse the whole camp.


	4. Lessons

After a cup of tea Jaskier feels almost at home. Despite the previously rapid pace the caravan was moving, the Witchers seem just fine with the break. They all seemed to remain vigilant in their watch and relaxation but Jaskier can hear a child’s laughter on the winds, his husband's daughter. If he closed his eyes he could almost imagine more laughter, children with his Alpha. Would he get to have them?

He could almost let himself hope for it now. He let himself drift for a while, eyes closed and relaxed, Yennefer’s sweet lilac contentment and Eskel’s more burnt sugar amusement. A new scent of parsley; concern, and notes of cumin, confusion. Jaskier opens his eyes, and sees a redheaded woman walking towards the trio, someone he didn’t recognize, even with all his time in the caravan. This must be the Triss that Yennefer mentioned.

She approaches cautiously, even as Yennefer stands in preparation to greet her. As Triss reaches the table Triss greets Jaskier first, a half bow curtsy traditional of a Beta to an Omega.

“Greetings Omega, I am Triss Merigold of the Mages attached to the Court of the White Wolf. Unfortunately I was not available for this negotiation, and it seems that was a mistake.” Jaskier awkwardly half bows back in his seat. 

“Thank you for coming today Triss.” Yennefer greets her friend next, “Jaskier needs our support, I have failed once. I will not do so again.”

Jaskier goes to interrupt but Yennefer’s no nonsense look stops him, “I did fail Jaskier. I failed you, and I failed the White Wolf, and we will fix it.” 

Jaskier hesitates for a moment, “Does, does my husband...does he resent me? Like you did?” His hands twist, he can feel the tears he’s been holding back well up.

Eskel makes a mournful noise, matching the sudden guilt that flashes across Yennefer’s face, her eyes eskew. “No Jaskier, he does not resent you,” She takes a deep breath before continuing, “He wanted to meet you immediately, court you the way he wasn’t able to before the wedding. I.” Another pause, “I told him to wait, let me assess you. I didn’t trust you or your motives.”

Yennefer faces Jaskier head on as she finishes her side, “I know now that I was wrong, I let my ignorance about your culture drive me, and I made you suffer for it. No Omega should question their place by their Alpha.”

Jaskier blushes, thinking of his Alpha wanting him by his side, wanting to court him...this romantic notion was making him feel all fuzzy and warm. He presses gloved hands to his burning cheeks, ignoring Triss’s indulgent smile. How would his Alpha court him, dinners just for him? Flowers maybe? Would a strong Alpha like the White Wolf hunt and dress Jaskier in the furs? White fox maybe, not wolf he’d assume, but maybe soft rabbit gloves?

Such wonderful tokens of fur showed the Omega that the Alpha treasured them, wanted them warm and taken care of, that they were worth the effort in hunting the animal and tanning the hide well enough to wrap the Omega in soft and warmth. Jaskier had always craved that old fashioned courting tradition. But all the Alphas his father had allowed to see Jaskier had always brought cold uninspired jewelry and sneers about his appearance. After a few years of no true suitors Jaskier had been locked away in his chambers, left to wait until his father had a use for him. 

All of these thoughts whirling around his head have Jaskier’s scent changing to soft notes of lavender and rose. The Alphas and Beta around him unconsciously relax in response, a happy Omega means a happy pack. 

Triss smiles again at the Omega, “I would like to discuss the courting. I know that you’re married, but I think a period of courting will help you both. I know some of the rules since I was a chaperone at least once, but I’d like a refresher course since this is more important.”

Jaskier pushes past his longing romantic thoughts and replies, “Yes of course. I would like that, I had hoped that he’d have enough time to let us get to know one another at least.”

Eskel breaks in, despite Jaskier not knowing the language, his tone is earnest and happy at least. Yennefer rolls her eyes at him and doesn’t bother to translate, but she pats Eskel’s shoulder. Jaskier takes that, and Eskel’s happy scent as a clue that his words were encouraging. 

Jaskier and Triss spend the next hour or two speaking about the different courting requirements of Omegas in Rediania. Usually his husband would have approached Jaskier’s family with a gift of intention, looking for permission to court Jaskier. His family would either reject or accept the gift, ending the courting process or letting it begin. If the courting began a second gift would then be presented to the intended who would be offered the same choice, accept the gift and courtship, or reject it. Sadly, this process was ignored when Jaskier’s father basically sold him to the White Wolf. 

The acceptance of both gifts would then start the main process of courting, a series of social meetings between the two with an appropriate chaperone, the Alpha would then present his courting gifts. Courting gifts made of goods that reflected how the Alpha felt about the Omega, politely of course. The chaperone would also be present to make sure nothing untoward happened. No touches between hands were ever allowed. Gloves were required, wrist scent glands were to be always covered. The Alpha was to always be polite with their scent and touches, scent marking and sampling were strictly forbidden until the wedding. Since they were already married the courtship period would be over when Jaskier felt he had been sufficiently wooed and respected in their partnership, which is when scenting would again be allowed. A little out of order but one must work with what one is given. Usually this period for Nobles was either very quick to ensure a successful alliance, or very long in an attempt to entice other courters. 

It was rare that any Noble Omega was courted for love. Jaskier hoped to change this with his husband, and with Yennefer’s and Triss’s assurances it seemed hopeful. As per tradition once Jaskier felt he could be happily mated to his Alpha he was to present the man with his own gift, something to symbolize their new life together. In normal circumstances, this was usually followed by a wedding, and the wedding night where the two would mate and establish an initial bond. As time continued and Jaskier and his husband grew closer, so would the bond strengthen. Jaskier had heard of bonded pairs who rarely needed to speak aloud; they were so in tune with each other and their emotions, a romantic thought Jaskier had always daydreamed about.

Their conversation lasts well into the afternoon, and becomes more sociable over time. Triss and Yennefer over the course of the afternoon spoke at length. Along with the courting rules, Yennefer takes charge of the conversation to educate Jaskier about the different workings of the Keep of the Witchers, Kaer Morhen. How the White Wolf’s advisors were made up from the School of the Wolf, and apparently Eskel was second in command of the Witchers of Kaer Morhen. The Alpha had shown quite the amount of competence handling Jaskier’s panic attack earlier. The schools beneath the wolf included the schools of the Viper, Griffins, Bears, Cranes, Manticores, and Cats. Each has their own smaller council who helped to manage the Witchers, tasks like who was going out onto the “Path”, who was staying behind in the keep, and other such logistics fell to them. The White Wolf himself along with his small council managed the larger responsibilities such as diplomacy and matters of state. The Wolf controlled a very large portion of the North, the only kingdoms not directly under his rule being most of Redania, Skellige, Cintra and pieces of Temeria. 

Cintra was an interesting topic, Queen Calanthe was known for her distaste of inhumans and mages. However as the White Wolf’s campaign was stabilizing into an actual kingdom Cintra had to choose war or treaty of peace. Her husband Eist had reached out to his nephew, Crach an Craite, the ruler of Skellige in an attempt to facilitate a treaty. Skellige had mediated between the two kingdoms and helped establish a peace. Cintra was officially allied with the White Wolf, and had agreed to obey the Wolf’s laws of equal treatment of persons, human and other. Skellige after it’s show of support to the Wolf had been awarded the lands of Cidaris, Kerack, and Verden, who had fallen easily to the jaws of the Witchers. 

Jaskier had heard about the quick march of the Witcher Kingdom across the continent, but in very small detail. His father had not approved of Jaskier learning anything about the world without his permission, and his son did not need to learn about “a savage feral bastard’s mad and useless attempt to fight against kingdoms who would not fall”. Watching that man’s face learning that Redania had surrendered a third of it’s holdings to the White Wolf as tribute was well worth the lack of food that day, punishment for Jaskier’s unadvised laughter. It was very nice to learn what was rumor and what was fact about his husband. 

He asks what motivated his husband to move against the past rulers and receives the answer that the story is best told by Eskel or a second advisor named Vesemir. Vesemir as a former teacher of the Wolf School was placed on the Wolf’s council, and is the only living man to hold any kind of authority over the Alpha. Jaskier looks forward to learning the language of the Witchers, it would open up so many avenues to learn more. 

“Yes, Eskel would give you the more dramatic version, he adores a good story though he will not express that opinion. But Vesemir would give you all the facts, the boring and the inspiring.” Yennefer looked pleased to relay this information, she seemed to be warming up to Jaskier the more he tries to learn about the world he would be entering, especially since he had not pushed any rumors forward as truth. 

The Witchers around them continue to stoke the fires from the night before as the trio continue their conversation, and Jaskier could now hear the returning hunting party in the distance. The laughter and shouts echoing back to the table where Jaskier, Triss, Yennefer and Eskel held court. During the conversation between Jaskier and Triss several Witchers with different medallions had come over and spoken with Eskel briefly before leaving again, each had given a nod of respect to everyone at the table, including, to his own surprise, Jaskier. 

Eskel had apparently set up different hunting parties to go out and get fresh meat for the caravan. Eskel was definitely the one in charge when Jaskier’s husband wasn’t around. He wonders where he was and if Yennefer had sent him away with his daughter so that she could speak with Jaskier alone. Even now he did not know his husband's name. But Jaskier keeps holding the hope that his knowledge would change soon, since Yennefer assured him that his husband was actually quite desperate to court him properly.

Triss speaks this time in reassurance, “It is silly of him but he wanted to be the one to introduce himself to you. As well as ask to court you,” she pauses to sip, “his ideas were actually quite romantic. As surprising as it seems your husband is actually quite shy.” 

Eskel laughs and his reply is in a tone of agreement. Yennefer nods mock sagely as she listens. By this time Jaskier’s mood had quite lifted, and when the hunting parties officially return to camp with multiple deer he joins the remaining caravan in clapping, several Witcher’s bow with full smiles at the reception. The last back to camp was Jaskier’s husband, the Alpha carried over his shoulder... A. Whole. Bear. 

The pair’s eyes meet.

The Alpha begins to make his way over to the tea table. His golden eyed gaze never breaks from Jaskier’s blue.


	5. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Alpha finally stops a few feet from Jaskier, towering over the smaller Omega. Yennefer and Triss do not avert their eyes but do step back, removing themselves from what was quickly becoming a private moment between mates. Eskel’s smile has grown with every step his Alpha takes towards Jaskier. The Alpha opens his mouth to speak, seems to think better of it, and then dumps the bear at Jaskier’s feet like a feral cat looking for praise at a dead mouse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay guys, I had a myriad of personal issues come up and it really killed my writing inspiration, thankfully I feel better now.  
> I hope every one likes the next installment of Wedding to a Warlord!
> 
> Thank you again to my beta Crazythespian who helps me fix my mistakes and get out the chapter properly written.
> 
> \--Ducky

He marches over to Jaskier’s table, bear swung over his shoulder, Jaskier gasps as he sees the ease at which his husband holds up a several hundred pound bear. Under his sweat soaked black undershirt Jaskier can see his Alpha’s thoroughly impressive biceps. His white hair is rumpled and contains some leaves and twigs, sweat darkening it to a grey color. As the Alpha draws closer Jaskier rises to his feet, setting his tea cup and saucer back onto the table. His husband pauses a moment before continuing the last steps to the table. 

The Alpha finally stops a few feet from Jaskier, towering over the smaller Omega. Yennefer and Triss do not avert their eyes but do step back, removing themselves from what was quickly becoming a private moment between mates. Eskel’s smile has grown with every step his Alpha takes towards Jaskier. The Alpha opens his mouth to speak, seems to think better of it, and then dumps the bear at Jaskier’s feet like a feral cat looking for praise at a dead mouse.

Jaskier hesitantly opens his mouth to speak but before anything comes out the Alpha immediately turns on his heel and walks very quickly away, almost running in his escape. Jaskier is shocked and it seems as though he is not the only one. The others all look a little slack jawed when he glances over at them for reassurance. Eskel makes a noise like a dying whale and then runs after the White Wolf, screaming in their language the whole time. Triss rolls her eyes so hard Jaskier is sure it gives her a headache, and Yennefer slaps her forehead with such force it leaves a red mark, then she also begins to yell after the white haired Alpha. Jaskier represses a giggle, it is obvious his husband has no idea what to do with his new husband. 

With a very loud war cry Eskel launches himself onto the back of the White Wolf, sending the Warlord to the muddy ground, soft from many horses and Witchers treading across it. The Warlord and his second begin to wrestle and roll on the ground, getting mud everywhere. However it seems the two Alphas are almost evenly matched in their skills. Both Eskel and his lord are yelling at this point, Eskel seems to be scolding the White Wolf, pulling the (now) extremely muddy white hair back, and yelping when the other Alpha retaliates with a fist of mud to the side of Eskel’s face. 

The yelling seems to attract all of the Witchers in the caravan, most of them now egging on Eskel and the Wolf, placing bets judging by the coins being thrown around. As the two continue to wrestle a second war cry echoes around the rough circle when another Alpha Witcher throws himself into the frey. Jaskier’s husband yells out “Lambert” in an annoyed tone. . 

A child’s laughter rings out near Jaskier, and when he turns his husband’s daughter is next to Yennefer, holding onto her hand; eyes fixed upon the fight. The girl is small, still very much a pup, and by the light in her blue eyes, very happy. Her golden hair is left wild and untamed for now, not yet placed into her adolescent presentation braids, though that tradition may not be held in the Warlord’s lands, Yennefer is well past her presentation and unmated, yet wears no braids. Jaskier had only worn his own clumsy braids until his wedding, plain and unadorned, his mating braids were half undone, his mate never in Jaskier’s company to finish them. Mayhaps his husband would let Jaskier braid, his--their, daughter's hair when she presented. 

Her eyes meet Jaskier’s blue, pale robin's eggs versus cornflowers. She smiles at Jaskier, and waves enthusiastically. Jaskier can feel his heart melt at her genuine smile, her soft milky pup scent remaining untainted by bitter unease or deceit. She is actually happy to see him, Jaskier’s scent becomes infused with warm notes of baking bread and honey, a nesting Omega. Jaskier can see Triss and Yennefer’s soft smiles as they react to the pheromones that he pumps out, a good marker of Jaskier accepting her as his own. While it is not rare for Omegas to take in their Alphas children, nobles were more in the practice of killing them, it is good to see Jaskier show again how different he is from his “family”.

Ciri goes to the other side of Yennefer, moving closer to the man her father had married, he smells nice and is wearing the pretty clothes she had helped Yennefer to pick out. Still holding onto her godmother’s hand she reaches tentatively to Jaskier’s gloved hand, which is then oh so gently taken, and held almost like it is glass. 

“I’m Ciri,” She whispers to Jaskier like a secret. 

“I’m Jaskier,” He whispers back. The two smile at each other and then turn back to the trio of Witchers still wrestling in the mud. 

The match finishes with Lambert and Eskel wrestling their leader to the ground, sitting on his shoulders and backside, keeping the Alpha from rolling over and perhaps gaining the upper hand. Jaskier’s Alpha is pouting, mud smeared all over his face like war paint, golden eyes glowing from beneath his furrowed brow. His scent however shows no sign of hostility like a Noble Alpha would after being beaten in a fight, instead it held annoyance (probably at his brothers), and gentle affection. Jaskier can see that this Alpha holds his brothers in arms in very high esteem, caring for them instead of ruling them. 

Jaskier’s husband is different from anyone he has ever met, and that includes the other Witchers and Mages he has met since marrying into the Wolf’s Pack. His husband had proven himself a very capable leader and fighter, an Alpha of great renown, yet he plays with his pack and treasures his daughter as a person first. A first born noble dreads the day of presentation, hoping every day that they are an Alpha, and if they do present as an Alpha they then spend every day after attempting to be the best Alpha within the household, then in the court, and maybe they do or do not become the best. But they always become the monster they pretend not to be. They hate their younger Alpha siblings, they are disgusted with their Omega siblings and abuse their power every step of the way. They only marry to breed, being in any way pleasant to their Omega spouse never crosses their mind. The poor Omega ending up broken and abused. He hates them, he has lived under their thumb and suffered.

But this Alpha shows none of these signs, his daughter is not cautious around him, his brothers play fight with him like common children. He is surrounded by other Alphas and they all obviously adore him, he allows an Alpha female to manage his affairs, another Beta Mage to help dictate his marriage contract, and has a younger child who he obviously adores. Jaskier could see them having a happy marriage if this behavior remains true to treatment of Omegas. 

As the two brothers of his Alpha continue to scold him Jaskier chances his luck by approaching them, letting go of the child’s hand and removing a handkerchief from his pocket, clean and moon white. As the Omega approaches the Alphas freeze. Jaskier kneels down in front of his husband's face, allowing his knees to become muddied. He takes the handkerchief and wipes some of the mud off of his husband’s face, and smiles at him.

“Dear husband, how could you run off after that display? Your prowess in taking down a bear for me must be addressed. Great Alpha, I see your gift of strength. I accept your gift of strength. As your intended bonded and married mate I request your next gift be of providence, using the bear you caught with your strength. Would you honor me with this Alpha?” Jaskier used all his courage, hoping that his old fashioned approach to courting would be the rite his Alpha followed. 

All three Alphas in front of him were staring wide eyed at Jaskier. Lambert and Eskel were then thrown off of The White Wolf’s back as he very abruptly sits up onto his knees, uncaring of his brother’s landing the Wolf intently stares into his mate’s eyes. Hearing the White Wolf’s voice for the first time is like having the waves of the ocean crash down onto him. His voice is rough like the drag of the waves out from shore, but it's also warm like the noonday sun upon Jaskier’s shoulders. The Alpha’s eyes are the liquid gold of Jaskier’s favorite silks he used to wear as a child, and Jaskier has never felt such safety in the reach of an Alpha. 

His tone is full of sacred vows, his eyes never leaving Jaskier, and his hands supinated between them. The mud does not detract from the moment's gravity. Despite not knowing what his husband is saying it is apparent to Jaskier that it is an old fashioned acceptance to an old fashioned request. Their courting had officially begun. 

“Your name Alpha? So I might honor your gift with a proper thanks? We are after all married.” Jaskier’s teasing joy seeps into his words. 

The White Wolf’s teeth flash in a smile, and his ocean tones speak “Geralt”. 

“Geralt,” Jaskier’s sighs like a maiden, “Wonderful. It is wonderful to meet you at last husband.” 

Geralt tentatively takes Jaskier’s hand and replies. Unknown in words but shy in tone. The spouses are interrupted by very loud cheer around them. Every Witcher is making noise, stomping their feet, clapping their hands, just as rowdy and joyful as they were at the wedding. More so, as they are not surrounded by enemies, not forced into a space with nobles who they know hate and fear them. Here, in the wilds of their territory, the pack celebrates. Their Alpha has started a courtship, with a strong Omega. Any Omega who had traveled with them, had endured nobles, and had endured Yennefer with nothing but a strong countenance and a solid heart deserved to be courted by a strong Alpha. And no one is stronger than the White Wolf. 

The next few hours saw Jaskier and Geralt as centerpieces to a feast unlike any Jaskier had ever attended. Dancing and brawls broke out as often as the drinks were passed around from the casks. Witchers danced with a vicious joy, for a while it was hard for Jaskier to distinguish the brawls from the dances. But he soon saw that the dancing involved blades of silver, flashing in and out, clashing in almost harmony. A deadly song to everyone but those who knew it by heart. Their smiles are feral and their amber eyes reflect the light of the fires around them. 

Jaskier is given food piece by piece from his husband’s plate, inappropriate for a courting couple but a wonderfully loving gesture between mates. Triss watches closely to confirm that Geralt’s fingers never touch Jaskier’s lips, that would cross the line. But Geralt is the most gentlemanly Alpha, he selects the bites of vegetable and meat for Jaskier ever so carefully. When Jaskier is full, full of food and what feels almost like love, their scents intertwine minimally, mixing honey and sea salt. They bask together in the warmth and light of the pack around them. Geralt rises from his seat, grabs his silver sword and salutes his husband. 

“White Wolf!” Booms in the air around them, and then Geralt is off. Dancing the Witcher’ dance of blades. Besting every Alpha sent his way. Proving his competency in protecting his mate. Proving his dedication to their marriage in his steps, sure and strong, never faltering. The firelight flickers across his face, his teeth are bared and sharp, Jaskier’s eyes never leave his husband. His gaze is drawn again to the movement of Geralt’s biceps, the muscles below the skin, the scandalous glimpse of low chest, sweat laden hairs sticking to the Alpha’s skin. The forearms are exposed and enhanced by the backwards hold of Geralt’s blade. Jaskier can feel a blush bloom across his skin, the heat of attraction washing over him. The freedom of being allowed to look as he gazed lustily at his husband. Geralt’s thighs draw Jaskier’s eye, strong and supple, easily seen through the fabric of his trousers, a warrior's garb meant not to hinder. Well it certainly didn’t hinder the view, rather enhanced it. 

If only his father could hear Jaskier’s thoughts now, it would have earned him a severe beating. The Viscount of Lettenhove was under the impression that Omegas were not allowed to lust for anything, not food or education, certainly not carnal lusts. But Jaskier had always been a rule breaker when it suited him. And Jaskier’s Alpha was a beauty to behold, an art piece brought to life. 

As Geralt began to deliberately slow his pace in the dance, their eyes met. Blue to gold, both their chests heaving, Geralt’s in exertion, Jaskier in attraction. They gaze into each other's eyes from across the clearing, and Jaskier feels himself rising out of his seat. Triss appears at his elbow and offers her hand, flat and palm down. Jaskier slides his still gloved hand over hers, not holding, but resting. She escorts him like a lady in waiting to her Omega highness, down to the fire, the Witchers part like the wind parts the grass of the plane. Deliberately, royally, Jaskier is escorted to his husband. A Queen to a King. The Omega and Alpha’s gaze never breaks. 

Geralt offers his hand to his Omega, bows to his Queen, an Alpha to serve as it should be. And then. They dance. A court dance that was always performed first at every ball, the nod to the time of savagery. The dance is performed only once, for long minutes, pushing the nobles to exhaustion. Accompanied by roaring of drums and stomping of feet by the onlookers. This dance with the Witchers is twice as long, twice as rowdy, twice as loud, and the most fun Jaskier has ever had at a dance. They whirl around each other, moving away and together over and over, but never touching. Their hands almost brush as they mirror the steps together, push and pull, the never ending chemistry of entropy. The starburst of life brought forth in every adrenaline fueled gasp of air, every weakening step across the ground, and every jump around the fire. They reach towards the other disregarding the others around them that also dance, the yelling of the crowd interrupts many a moment of silence, and in that time of dance it was as if the world had come to life for the first time. And as Jaskier finally crashes into his husbands’ arms the final shockwave of sound rises and falls. 

Jaskier is carried by his husband to the central cart of the Caravan, his husband and Ciri’s cart. Jaskier is laid to rest on a nest of wool and cotton, soft and warm and smelling deliciously of his husband, with the notes of innocence from the child. Yennefer arrives soon after, carrying Ciri. Ciri is laid to rest, already asleep, into Jaskier’s arms, which tighten around her. Geralt nestles them into the blankets, arranging his mate and child into a makeshift den. He kisses Ciri’s forehead, he caresses Jaskier’s face. And that is the last Jaskier remembers before sleep takes him.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by "The Accidental Warlord and His Pack" by inexplicifics.
> 
> Beta: crazythespian


End file.
